Page 30 of The Idiot

Is he for real?

“Um, no. Just Murphy.”

The first bartender finally delivers my drinks, thank God. I ask him to throw Philip’s in with my total and toss my money down. Downing my shot, I swipe up my beer and hoist it toward Philip, a suave but bluntadios.

“Nice to meet you. Enjoy the cruise.”

I catch a protest from him as I push back into the crowd and pray he wants his free drink badly enough to wait for it rather than follow me. A clearing in the crowd offers a safe place to pause and sip my beer, soothing the burn of the rum in my throat.

Up ahead, a gaggle of men are cracking up at something. Their attention seems collectively fixed on the same object, but there are too many people in the way for me to see what kind of entertainment this mixer has.

“Oh, I know! Right? I bet he’s fun in the sack. The goofy ones always are,” one of the men comments to another.

A cold touch slithers up my bare back, giving me a start. I nearly spill my beer, twisting around to see what I’ve run into.

“Do you wax or are you just all bear up front?” Philip asks coyly, trailing his fingers back down the way they came.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I have a fan, and I’ve only been here ten minutes.

I don’t even know how to answer that question, but manage to shut my gaping mouth. I fix my gaze back on the laughing gaggle of men like I’m incredibly busy and focused on discerning national secrets.

“The only wax I use is on my truck,” I say sternly, hoping he’ll get the hint.

“Hm. I’d have pegged you for a motorcycle man, but I could see you in a truck.” His fingertips do a playful little two-step across my shoulder that says he knows shit about boundaries.

I came here hoping to be touched in the near future. It’s been months. Auggie is going to think I have a problem if I don’t blow off some steam soon, but my motor isn’t revving for Philip Sparkle Buttons. He’s clearly willing, but I am committed to having a full-fledged conversation that I actually enjoy with the next man I take my clothes off for.

“Oh, I guess they spotted the mountain man.” He chuckles, angling his chin in the direction of the laughing men.

Is there an entertainer here? Did I miss that on the program?

“‘Mountain man?’”

“Yeah.” He snorts, rolling his eyes and nodding in the direction of the crowd in front of us. “Some guy must have thought it would be funny to wear a rappelling harness. Either he’s got a wild sense of humor and a shit ton of confidence, or is some hayseed who doesn’t know what harness night stood for.”

Scoffing, I can’t help but crack up, shifting onto the balls of my feet to see if I can spot the man in question.Now, that’s someone I’d like to meet. Someone who speaks my language of sarcasm and honey-badger-don’t-give-a-shit. Someone who—

Is that…

No.

I swear to God, if that was a Dew Drop t-shirt I just saw, I’m going to—

Jesse?

It…

No.

Jesse’shere?

On this ship?

Why…

How…

He’s fucking wearing his rappelling harness. It’s suddenly not funny at all.

---